Saying Goodbye
by Raeni12345
Summary: Connor has to say good-bye to one of his best mates from uni, and has to deal with his own feelings of responsibility for what happened. Based on Series 1 Episode 4.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: My first foray into Primeval fanfics... love love love the show (when I discovered it, I did a four day marathon watch of all three seasons) and it has spawned a lot of ideas in my head, so I am sure this won't be my last Primeval fic. Please review... let's me know if I'm getting it right.  
**

The dodos had seemed so innocent, so harmless compared to anything that had come through the anomalies yet. They were playful, and almost cute. And so stupid, or rather, "trusting" as Abby had put it. Cutter had a rare moment of letting his guard down and playing with them, and everyone had been fairly amused by their antics before all but two were successfully herded back through the anomoly.

But as Connor ran up, placing himself between the soldiers with guns and one of his bests mates, he knew that things had not been what they had seemed. And the full weight of what he was involved with finally stuck him.

He knew that, even without the soldier's bullets, Tom was going to die. The parasite that the dodo had infected Tom with was going to destroy him. There was nothing they could do to stop it. He had already infected a doctor, and right now he had Abby pinned to the ground on the football field, and there was a very real threat that he was going to infect her as well. But Connor couldn't bear to let the soldiers shoot him. It wasn't right. It wasn't Tom's fault.

"Don't shoot him," he cried out desperately. "Just... please, don't... don't shoot him."

"Connor, get out of the way!" Captain Ryan barked at him, keeping his gun trained on Tom's head. He didn't want the stupid kid to be an accidental victim if they had to open fire.

"Let him try, let him try," Cutter said softly, at Captain Ryan's shoulder. The captain nodded, but he and his soldiers kept the guns trained.

Connor slowly turned, looking toward Tom. He was sprawled out over Abby, looking up at Connor with fear filled eyes, the laser guides of the guns making dancing red dots on his hair. Connor kept his hands out in a "stop" motion to the soldiers, even as he addressed Tom.

"Tom, Tom, it's me." Connor tried to draw Tom's attention, even as he kept looking up at the soldiers in the bleachers. "Let her go mate." He was trembling, and he hoped the growing crowd wouldn't notice.

Tom was looking wildly between Connor and the soldiers with guns. His eyes were wide and confused and fearful. He didn't seem to even recognize who Connor was. Connor wracked his mind, trying to find something to say to distract Tom, to calm him. But then Tom grasped harder around Abby's wrist, and Abby made a small, frightened sound of pain, and Connor winced.

"Easy!" Connor took a step closer. "Easy." He knew that the soldiers wouldn't tolerate much more. He had to get Tom to release Abby. "Easy."

Tom finally looked straight at him, his eyes so desperate that for a moment Connor had to look away to compose himself. And an idea dawned on him. "You remember Thursday nights, don't ya?" He hoped that this would work, that it would bring Tom back. "Battlestar Galactica, Blake 7?" He forced a smile, even as tears started to fill his eyes. "Pepperoni pizza?"

Tom's eyes started to clear, and he looked again directly at Connor. The tears were threatening to fall now, as Connor kept a smile on his face, even though his heart was falling apart. Thursday nights. They had kept him sane through years and years at uni. It had always been Tom and Duncan and him. Watching sci-fi, playing video games, discussing conspiracies, eating lots and lots of pizza. He knew they would never have that again, and the thought nearly broke him.

"Connor." Tom spoke his name softly, tentatively.

"Yeah." Connor's voice was barely above a choked whisper. "They were good times, weren't they?" Tom just continued to stare at him. He needed to keep talking. Star Wars. Right. The forced smile started to fade off of Connor's face as he said, "You can fight the dark side, mate." He took a steadying breath. "You really can."

Tom turned, pulling back, and looked down at Abby, still sprawled, terrified, on the ground. He looked like he was trying to say something, and Connor could read the pain and regret in Tom's eyes, as he pulled back slightly and released Abby's wrists. Finally free, with a choked cry, Abby scrambled to her feet and fled for the safety of the bleachers. Tom reached a hand after her, but it wasn't malicious. It was almost an apology.

"You too Connor! Move away!" Captain Ryan's voice broke the moment. "He will kill you!"

Connor took another breath, as Tom rocked forward slightly on his knee on the grass. Connor didn't even turn toward the soldier. His eyes never left Tom, and a tear finally found its way from his eye onto his cheek. "No he won't," Connor said, and started to move toward his mate. "He's my friend." Tom looked into his eyes at that, and this time Connor didn't break contact.

Tom knew he was dying. Connor could see it, and it was tearing his heart out. He looked into Tom's defeated eyes. "You come with me," he said softly. "We can... we can help you." Another tear. He knew that there was nothing they could do, except try to ease his fear. But he hoped, if Tom came with him willingly, the soldiers would put the guns away.

But Tom looked back up at the people in the bleachers, and distrust entered his eyes once again. He could recognize a coverup when he saw one. He looked back at Connor and the expression softened.

"It was a conspiracy, wasn't it, Conn?"

Connor swallowed hard against a lump that almost strangled him. "Big time," he managed. "Right to the top." It was true. It was a conspiracy, a coverup. A government secret.

"Was it any... mind control?" Tom gave a weak half-smile.

Connor forced the smile back. "Yeah," he lied. He saw Tom give a bit of a laugh, and he did too, though it could just as easily have been a sob.

"Brilliant," Tom whispered, looking at the ground. Connor watched him, uncertainly, fighting to keep the smile on his face and losing the battle.

Then Tom looked up at him again, only there was something very wrong. Tom's eyes were the wrong shade of blue and dark veins appeared in the skin underneath them.

Connor felt a moment of terror as he stared at his friend. He could hear reaction on the bleachers behind him, people yelling at him to back away, to run. He thought he heard Abby yell his name. He didn't move, couldn't move.

Tom moved upwards and then fell forward against the inside of Connor's shoulder. He could still hear the cries from the bleachers above him, and he realized that everyone thought that Tom was biting him.

He put his hand onto Tom's shoulder, holding the man to him. Tom didn't bite, didn't attack. He just leaned into Connor, trembling.

"It's okay," Connor finally said, just loud enough for the soldiers on the bleachers to hear him. Then he spoke to Tom. "You're okay."

Tom fell further, leaning into Connor's chest, and Connor just kept his arms around him. This was the end. Tom pulled away, so that he could make eye contact once more. "They tried to take me over," he whispered hoarsely, "but I fought them Conn... I fought them."

His eyes were so earnest, staring up into Connor's. Connor felt the lump rise in his throat again. "You did a really good job," he forced out around it.

Tom made grunting noises of agreement. "I'm a hero," he said finally, weakly, his whole body shaking. Then he clenched his eyes shut in obvious pain, and his body tensed once in Connor's arms before falling limp.

Connor stared down, numbly, as Tom's weight carried him out of Connor's arms onto the ground. He was gone. Tom was gone. Tom was gone and it was his fault. He stayed there, kneeling on the ground over Tom's still body, not looking up, not noticing the stunned and somber silence that had taken over the bleachers.

He stayed there, in frozen grief until he heard the slow approach of footsteps. Cutter was standing there, watching him.

He knew what he needed to do. This had been his fault. He had to make it right.

He stood up and took a couple of steps away from Tom, toward Cutter. "I can't do this anymore," he stated. He barely recognized the voice coming out of his mouth.

"Come here," Cutter whispered gently, taking him by the arm, and positioning himself between Connor and the majority of the onlookers in the bleachers. It wasn't private, but it was as private as it would be.

Cutter took a breath. He knew he was losing a vital member of the team, and that the next few moments were critical. "We need you," he told him.

Connor's eyes were full of agony and tears, his voice unstable and choked, but his reply was immediate. "If I hadn't been involved, Tom would still be alive." His breath hitched in his chest. The guilt of the statement felt like a lead weight on his body, threatening to push him through the ground.

"No," Cutter said, focusing intently on his student. "There's a handful of people, in the whole world, who know what's going on here, what we're grapplin' with, and you're one of 'em." Cutter looked at him pointedly, and motioned slightly with his head in Tom's direction. "That would have made his day! He'd of loved it."

Connor's lips were trembling and he was fighting to maintain control, but Cutter's words caused him to grin slightly. Tom would have loved it. A conspiracy theory proven true. But the smile faded again as quickly as it came. All Connor wanted to do was let himself break down, let out what he had been holding inside since the moment, back in Tom and Duncan's flat, where Cutter had indicated that it was too late to save Tom, that maybe if they had gotten to him earlier...

Cutter could see that Connor was falling apart, but he had to break through to him. Break through, or risk losing him altogether. And so, Cutter pushed. "So you can't bail out now, okay?" Damn, he could hear the emotion starting to trickle into his voice.

But it had done what it needed to do. He could see the determination returning to Connor's face, and through his tears, Connor forced out a replying, "Okay."

Cutter's own eyes were starting to get bright, and he was surprised by his own emotions. He didn't make emotional attachments – he hadn't since his wife had left eight years ago. But there was something about this one, something about Connor that had caught him off guard.

He reached out his arm and grasped Connor by the shoulder and pulled him in. "You come 'ere," he said softly, and wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders.

After a second he could feel Connor returning the hug, leaning into his shoulder, and breaking down entirely. Cutter could feel every shaking sob that forced its way through Connor's frame, and all he could do was hold him. Cutter kept his back firmly to the crowd on the bleachers, as he fought to regain his own control.

**AN: Sorry that ch 1 was essentially a retelling of the end of the episode, but ch 2 is going to deal more with how Tom's death affects Connor. I understand why the show decided to jump to over a month later, and pick up where Connor is past the worst of the grieving (giving only a slight nod via video game and a photo). But I want to explore it a bit more. Stay tuned.**

**Please review.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Captain Ryan volunteered to drive Connor and Abby back to the flat. Both were silent, staring out the windows, shell-shocked.

Poor kids, Captain Ryan thought silently. Nothing in either of their lives would have prepared them for any of this, but they were a part of it now. He did feel a reluctant admiration for the young man in the back seat. He had run, recklessly, between his friend and the guns, and had managed to talk his friend down. On the same note, Captain Ryan hoped that Connor would never do that again.

Connor stared at the window, silently. His pale reflection, barely visible against the scenery rushing by, looked haunted and empty. Shock was setting in. He could barely feel anything. Tom. Tom's dead. The thought continually replayed in his mind, over and over, becoming almost meaningless in its repetition.

He barely noticed that the truck had come to a stop, until his reflection jerked away from him as the door opened. Captain Ryan looked in at him, concern on his face. "You're home, Connor."

Connor barely nodded, and pulled himself out, shouldering his bag. Mutely, he followed Abby through the door of the flat, and pushed it closed behind him.

They both just stood there for a long time, not making eye contact, not really moving. Finally Abby made a small sound of discomfort and started rubbing her wrist.

That woke Connor up for a moment. He looked over at Abby's tear-streaked face, her sore wrists that would likely have bruises for days to come. She was still shaking slightly – she had nearly become another victim.

He took a step toward her and stopped, unsure of what to do next. "Abby, you alright?" he finally asked, weakly. He could see that she wasn't.

Abby looked away for a moment to regain herself. She couldn't handle the concern she saw in Connor's eyes, unmasked, even by his own pain. She forced a smile, a false bravado. "Fine!" Her voice came out a little too bright.

Connor nodded, falling back into silence, and turning away, walking further into the flat.

"You alright, Connor?" Abby took a few steps after him.

He stopped, and slowly turned around. He wanted to say "yeah" or "fine" but his voice caught in his throat, and instead a large tear slid from his eye, and then another one. He rubbed his fists against his face, but it didn't stop them.

Abby swallowed hard as her own eyes welled up. Part of her wanted to hug him. Part of her didn't know if she should. What if he took it the wrong way? So she just stood there, awkwardly, and Connor finally turned away. "I think I just need some time," he choked out.

"Yeah," Abby agreed. She walked back toward the door of the flat. "I'll go for a walk."

Connor sank down onto the couch, and leaned his head back, letting loose a deep, ragged breath. He heard the door shut softly behind him. His head was starting to pound. He wondered if Abby had any aspirin.

…

His phone buzzed and rang in his pocket, jolting Connor awake. He hadn't even realized that he had fallen asleep. How long had he been out? His neck ached from the awkward position.

He fumbled in his pockets, finally pulling out the mobile. Cutter's name appeared on the call display. He flipped the phone open and reluctantly put it to his ear. "Yeah?" he croaked out.

"Sorry ta bother you, Connor. There's been another sighting."

No! Not now! Not yet! Connor's mind screamed at him. But out loud, he managed, "Mind if I sit this one out?" He hated how pathetic his voice was sounding, but he felt broken.

"Yeah, I mind." Cutter hated having to push, but he knew instinctively this was what Connor needed. "We need you. You're a part of this team."

"Tom just died today," Connor protested.

"I know," Cutter replied, an unwelcome swell of sympathy again rocking him. He paused for a long moment. "Will you come?"

There was such a long silence on the other end that Cutter wondered if Connor was still there. Then he heard a ragged sigh. "I'll need a ride."

…

**AN: Bit of a short chapter, but it was as good a place to break as any. What do you think? Please review. **


	3. Chapter 3

Connor watched the creatures in amazement. It still hadn't ceased to blow his mind that he was actually looking at real, living dinosaurs. At the moment there were four of them, about three or four feet long and about the size of a dog, but with small, nobby faces and long thick tails. They were in the corner of the barn, devouring a hay bale.

"What do you think?" Cutter's voice at Connor's shoulder startled him.

"Ceratopsian. Herbivore," Connor stated. "Judging by the size, and the shape of the head, I'd say Bagaceratops. From the late Cretaceous." He grinned in spite of himself, but the moment he did, he felt guilty for doing so. How could he be enjoying himself when Tom...

Cutter watched the young man's face fall, and gave a bit of a sigh. "Connor." He placed a comforting hand on his student's shoulder, but couldn't think of anything else to say.

Connor blinked furiously a few times. "Sorry," he mumbled. "It's hard."

"I know," Cutter agreed. "But I don't think Tom would blame you for enjoying this."

Connor kept his eyes on the dinosaurs in front of him, but nodded.

Herding the hungry Bagaceratops back into the anomaly proved to be remarkably easy, much to Connor's relief. The creatures seemed relatively docile, and although one stamped and snorted slightly as Stephen and Captain Ryan approached, they showed no real sign of aggression or fear.

The two men grabbed the half-eaten hay bale and dragged it along the barn floor toward the anomaly, keeping it always within the reach of the animals, who followed slowly, still munching. It was likely the easiest food any of them had in their lives, and they weren't about to give it up.

Finally, the two men hefted what was left into the anomaly, and the dinosaurs followed willingly. Claudia and Abby ran up just as the last of the creatures disappeared into the fractured golden light.

"What were they?" Abby asked Connor, who was standing near the door watching.

"Bagaceratops," Connor replied. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "One of the smaller ceratopsians from the Cretaceous period."

Abby sighed with relief. Herbivores, and small ones at that. When she had been told that there was a suspected creature incursion, she had been hoping for just such an outcome.

The anomaly was starting to fluctuate, starting to close. Connor took a deep breath, and headed out the barn door, uncomfortably aware of several sympathetic glances that were being shot his direction as he did so. He leaned up against the wall and closed his eyes, trying not to think about Tom, but the moment his mind was unoccupied, it was all he could think about.

If only he could have told Tom about it all. If only Tom had never taken the dodo. If only they could have reached him in time to save him. If only...

"Connor." He jumped when he felt a soft hand on his arm. He looked over at an apologetic Claudia Brown. She was biting her lip slightly and looked rather reluctant. "I have to talk to you about Tom," she said, softly.

Connor closed his eyes again, letting his head fall back against the barn wall. He looked about to cry, and Claudia felt terrible. But she had no choice.

She took a deep, steadying breath. Just get it over with, she told herself. "The autopsy is going to show that Tom died of an aneurism," she told him finally.

Connor didn't open his eyes, but he nodded. He knew what she was telling him. He had to play along – act as though Tom's death had been natural. "You're part of the conspiracy now Tom," he thought with a bit of a wry laugh. Then his eyes flew open and he blushed furiously as he realized that he had thought it out loud.

Claudia gave a bit of a strained chuckle and shook her head as she walked off to rejoin Stephen and Cutter.

…

Connor stood for a long time at the gate, holding a black fedora in one hand, a white rose in the other. Partway up the hillside he could see black-clad mourners, already standing around Tom's final resting place. He didn't recognize very many of them. He could see Duncan standing a little off to the side of the crowd, and standing by the priest, her face hidden by a black veil, was Tom's mother. Connor swallowed around the now-too-familiar lump in his throat as he watched her, knowing that she could never know the truth – what really happened to her son.

He placed his hand on the gate, but pulled it away again, like it had burned him. He let out a huff of breath. "You can do this," he whispered to himself, and reached for the gate once more.

Just as he did, he felt a warm hand squeeze his shoulder. He let out a little yelp, and spun around, suddenly realizing that he was not alone.

Cutter's piercing blue eyes met his with a look of solidarity. Connor stared at him, surprised to see him there. It was a long moment before he realized that Cutter hadn't come alone. Standing behind him, all dressed in the appropriate black, were Stephen and Abby and Claudia.

Connor choked slightly, and a tear rolled down his cheek He had thought that perhaps Abby might come, but he had not expected anyone else.

But they had all come – the whole team. His team. And he knew they had come for him.

"Thank you," Connor whispered, barely trusting his voice even for that. He reached out his hand, and pushed open the gate, and together they made their way up the hill to say goodbye to Tom.

...

**AN: I had this mental picture of the five of them, all dressed in black, Connor in the middle, walking up the hill of the cemetary (one of those team moments - like a very different team had near the end of series 3). Not sure why that stuck in my head.**

**Hope you liked my story. There's a short epilogue...**

**Thanks for reading. Please review! It makes my day (and means a lot to me as a writer).  
**


	4. EPILOGUE

It was Thursday night.

Connor sat on the couch in Abby's flat, and stared at the blank screen of the television. He knew that right now, Battlestar Gallactica was on, but somehow he couldn't make himself watch it.

"I'm trying not to blame you, Connor." Duncan had told him. "It's gonna take time, I think. All the talk of conspiracies, and all the while you were part of a big one." Since the funeral, Duncan had avoided him altogether.

He heard the door to the flat open, and Rex chirped a greeting. He turned to see Abby kicking the door shut with her foot. In her hands she held a box of pizza and a six pack of beer. A DVD case dislodged itself from atop the pizza box, and clattered to the floor. She glared down at it, before booting it in Connor's direction with her toe.

He bent down to pick it up. _Serenity._ He looked up quizzically at Abby as she plunked the open pizza box down on the coffee table, with a bit of a grin, and joined him on the couch.

Pepperoni.

**AN: Cheers! Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.  
**


End file.
